


Love Land I thru III

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-05
Updated: 2001-11-05
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Scully kicks Mulder out. Guess where he goes... (g)





	Love Land I thru III

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

You Don't Know Me by Jennie

Title: You Don't Know Me  
Author: Jennie  
Feedback:   
Webpage: http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other and http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other  
TotalParts: 1  
Status: Complete  
Pairing: M/Sk  
Rating: PG - M/Sk UST  
Spoilers: Existence is referred to by way of William & Alex  
Summary: Scully kicks Mulder out. Guess where he goes... <g>  
Notes: Written for the X-Files Lyric Wheel. Thanks to Pollyanna for the lyrics and to Sue and Teri for the terrific beta jobs.  
Disclaimer: Not my characters - no money made - no copyright infringement intended.

* * *

You Don't Know Me  
by Jennie

Why me?

Why the FUCK is he at my door?

My first instinct is to gruffly send him on his way, but the pain in his expression - and the hope that I'll actually be able to help him - make me sigh in resignation and open the door. "C'mon in, Mulder."

The relief on his face is almost scary. I've worked long and hard to put my feelings for him into a well-hidden compartment of my brain - almost have myself convinced that I can get past this... this crush, or infatuation, or whatever the fuck I feel for him. And here he is - yet again. Apparently hoping that I can fix his current problem.

He walks over and sits on my couch, the very picture of confusion and misery. A silent picture.

Great. I'll have to pull the problem out of him word by word - I recognize the signs all too well.

"You want a drink?" I ask.

He nods. "Whatever you're having is fine."

"I'm drinking Scotch, Mulder," I inform him. "Not quite your style is it? I have beer in the fridge. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer that?"

"Nope - thanks - Scotch, please."

Whatever it is, it's bad. In all the years I've known him, Mulder has never been much of a drinker. And I've NEVER seen him drink anything stronger than a beer. 

Once I return to the living room from the kitchen, I hand him his drink and settle in a chair. I wait for him to get a little liquid courage into his system before tackling the problem he's brought to me. And, truth to tell, I need a little time, myself. Helping Mulder face his demons is both the joy and the bane of my life.

Figuring that he's about as ready as he's likely to get and knowing that I have to start SOMEWHERE, I opt for the simple and direct approach. "Tell me, Mulder."

All that gets me is a fleeting glance from obscenely pretty eyes and more silence. Okay, a guessing game, then. "How are your future plans coming?" I inquire. "Have you any idea what you're going to do next?"

He shrugs.

Hmmm.

"How's William?"

"Fine." Well, at least it's a word. Delivered in a strangely hopeless tone. I think I'm headed in the right direction here. 

"And Scully?"

Ah ha! He sets his drink on the coffee table, gets to his feet and starts pacing the room in an agitated fashion. Watching him, I find myself growing afraid. What if she's-

"She isn't ill again, is she? I mean, no complications from the pregnancy?"

"No," he finally answers in a low tone. "She's fine." Pausing as he passes the balcony door, he stops to stare out at the city lights through the glass. "She, uh... FUCK!"

Damn! Whatever it is, it's worse that I thought - Mulder does not make a habit of cursing. Not in my presence at any rate. 

"Mulder," I say quietly but firmly, "just tell me. Get it out - then maybe we can talk."

After several moments of tense silence, he spins around suddenly, pinning me with a confused, angry and very hurt expression. "She's apparently decided that we're not meant to be together. Not as lovers, anyway." He walks over and sits at the other end of the sofa - well, actually he perches there - ready to jump up and start his damned pacing again.

And I - well, hell, I don't know what to say. I'm so afraid of allowing my own feelings for him slip out that I take refuge in my drink. If I'm swallowing Scotch, he can't expect me to respond - can he?

But - damn, he's looking at me with such an expectant expression. What the hell ever made him think I had any answers? He's seen all too well how I've fucked up my own life - most especially my marriage. And now he expects ME to help? Shit.

Removing my glasses, I rub wearily at my eyes. "I don't know what to tell you... we both know that relationships aren't my forte. I'm perfectly happy to listen to you, discuss it - but, Mulder, PLEASE don't expect me to have any easy answers for you."

He suddenly decides to talk and now his words come in a rush. "I... I don't have anywhere to stay, Skinner. Gave up my apartment when I moved in with Scully - and, somehow, a motel seems so... so lonely." He drops his head into his hands and the next burst of words is muffled. "I don't want to be alone right now. The idea scares me - I can't stop thinking. About what a failure I am - Jesus, I can't even manage a relationship with someone who's been my closest friend for eight years; she's the mother of my child, for chrissakes. What's wrong with me, Skinner? I can't figure out why I keep failing."

"Okay," I find myself saying. "Tonight, we'll talk - and, Mulder, you'll stay here for now. I have an extra bedroom upstairs." 

And there you go. Walter Skinner, idiot. Not satisfied to play agony aunt and solve his romantic problems, I've all but ordered him to move in with me. Early onset of Alzheimer's? Dementia? Or, god forbid, hormones?

I rise to head into the kitchen and mix us each another drink. I pause halfway across the living room. "Listen, Mulder... you're not working for me any longer. Think you could manage to call me 'Walt' instead of Skinner or," I grimace, "sir?"

"I - uh, sure, Walt." He says my name slowly, testing the sound and his comfort level with the change. "I think I can do that - as long as," he grins, "you don't call me 'Fox'. I really do hate that name, y'know."

"Deal," I tell him with a grin of my own before leaving the room.

When I return, he's a little more relaxed. I have no idea whether it's the liquor or my offer of a refuge, but I'm not going to worry about that right now. Settled once again on the couch, I put both drinks on the coffee table and turn so that I can meet his eyes. "Okay, Mulder, tell me what happened."

"Jesus, Walt - you don't waste any time, do you?"

I raise one brow at him. "You'd prefer to discuss basketball - or soccer? Big time wrestling, perhaps?" His expression tells, me clearly that while he DOES want to unload on me, he's still a little hesitant. Not that I can blame him - I've never faced a situation like this one. Dealing with him as a subordinate was one thing - irritating, confusing and downright mind-bending at times - but I haven't a clue as to how to deal with him as a friend.

And then there are my feelings for him. Feelings I've kept under tight wraps - this... this is NOT going to be easy. Hiding my rather embarrassing fascination with him, my almost overwhelming need to touch him, to offer physical comfort, is going to be... Shit, it'll be the best performance of my life, hiding those feelings. 

Particularly from this man. He sees too much - always has, in my experience.

In the feeble hope that alcohol will dull his uncanny perception, I make sure that his glass is never empty. And, as time passes, he's starting to loosen up; I can see it in his body language. We don't talk much; I simply keep plying him with liquor and wait.

After several false starts, he finally starts to talk - good thing, too, the Scotch bottle is getting near to empty. On the other hand, I realize, as he gains steam, there's probably not enough Scotch in the world to make this easier for me to hear. I wonder if I'll suffer too horribly tomorrow if I switch to something else - the liquor cabinet holds vodka, whiskey, and rum. And there's beer in the fridge.

I decide against that idea - god only knows what might get revealed if I drink any more. So, I settle back into the comfortable sofa and just listen as he pours his hurt, his confusion, his insecurities all over me.

"I was so sure that it was right for us to move on ... to become lovers, best friends we already were, but, I thought we both wanted more. And," he continues, "we have William - he's my son. MY son. Our son. But, right from the beginning, I had this feeling that she was doing it for me - and waiting for me to realize, as she obviously did, that we didn't belong together. I suppose," he pauses for a moment and clears his throat, "I suppose I wanted it to be, because I want a family... security. And, she makes me feel safe."

While I can well understand, I can't help but wonder if he hears and comprehends his own words. Not a single one of his reasons for wanting this relationship with Scully even remotely resembles that desperate love and longing to spend their lives together that most couples feel.

I should know. If that overwhelming NEED to spend your life with another doesn't exist - if the love - and the spark of passion aren't there... well, it'll only cause pain in the long run. Not to mention boredom and the eventual loss of the friendship and respect that was once so important to both of you.

"Mulder," I finally say, "I can't help but notice that not once did you mention loving Scully in a romantic way. Yes, you've been partners for many years, learned to count on and trust each other. And, you DO love each other... as friends." I sigh and roll my tense shoulders. "Now you have William. But, Mulder, think about it - does he really deserve to grow up in a home where his parents aren't in love? Romantically, I mean. Do you really want to jeopardize your relationship with Scully? The friendship and respect you have for each other? Because sooner or later, you'll grow apart - start to resent each other." I turn to meet his eyes. "Believe me, Mulder, it WILL happen - take it from one who knows."

His expression tells me that he's hesitant to ask, but, after a deep breath, he gathers his courage. "You mean... you and Sharon were never in - shit, never mind - not my business."

I sigh. "Sharon was my best friend - and I loved her as such. But, she WAS in love with me - and that made it even harder, more painful for her. Eventually, she grew bitter - withdrew. And, well, you know what happened in the end."

"Did you... ah, did you cheat on her? Fall for someone else?"

Uh oh - we're hitting very treacherous ground here. But, I can tell him nothing but the truth. "No, Mulder, I never 'cheated' on her. Not that the temptations weren't there... but, no, I never did - unless you count that unfortunate thing with the - " I break off, avert my eyes away from that sharp gaze of his. "Well, you know all about that, don't you?"

He nods and clears his throat. "Yeah, I do. You are one bull-headed SOB." 

"Part of my charm, I guess," I joke feebly.

He snorts.

"Sooo," he continues, apparently deciding that he likes poking around in my private life, "you didn't answer my other question - DID you fall for someone else?"

Fuck all. I should've known. Mulder's a damned bulldog when after information.

After drinking the last of my Scotch - Dutch courage - I shake my head. "Yeah, Mulder - I did fall for someone - still have... strong feelings for him."

"Him?"

This time I'm the one to rise and pace around the room. How to say this? How much do I reveal here? Eventually, I stop and stare through the glass doors, keeping my back to him. Safer that way - god knows he'd probably see how I feel towards him.

"Yeah, Mulder," I say quietly, watching his reflection. "HIM."

Silently, he sits on the couch.

Not good. A silent Mulder is a dangerous Mulder.

"Do I know this person?"

I shrug. "Yes." I answer simply. "You do."

More silence. "Walt... jesus, Walt, PLEASE tell me it's not Krycek."

I laugh. Can't help myself. Turning back to face him, I raise my brows. "C'mon, Mulder, you can't really think that I could ever fall for that bastard. I'm gay, not crazy."

"Uh, I see," he says, looking anywhere but at me. And, he's blushing. 

What the hell?

"Mulder, what made you ask me that? I mean, of all the guys we know, why Krycek?"

"He, um, Krycek, I mean... he made a pass at me once," Mulder informs me in a very quiet tone. "When I said no, he - well, he accused me of being your lover. Sounded pretty jealous, too. So I thought that maybe you and he - "

"You think too much, Mulder," I say wearily. "Have I ever mentioned that to you?"

He shrugs uncomfortably. "Sorry, si - um, Walt. I didn't mean to pry. Well, no more than I usually do. It just seemed... well, look, he was certainly attractive - you have to admit that."

"Okay, I'll give you that, he was a good-looking man. But, Christ, Mulder - even if I HAD been interested in him, he was my subordinate, then my enemy. I make it a policy to never fuck around with either - and, in case you've forgotten, I killed him. I'm not a fucking black widow. I don't kill my lovers."

"Oh." He takes another sip of his drink, glancing at me from the corner of one eye. "So, I don't suppose you're going to tell me who this person you fell for is?"

"No." I shake my head. "There's no reason to even discuss the matter. He has no idea how I feel about him, he's straight, and he's my friend. It wouldn't be worth the probable repercussions if I ever told him."

"So, this guy works for you?" That's my Mulder - always in search of some truth or another. Unfortunately, this is one truth I'm not willing to share.

"Mulder," I deliberately use my AD voice in an attempt to quell his curiosity. "We're not here to discuss my love life, or lack thereof - The topic here is you and Scully."

He gets the strangest expression on his face. I can't even begin to imagine what he's thinking. Whatever it is, though, I strongly suspect that I don't want to hear it.

"The thing is," he says, "Scully knows that I'm bisexual and I think that's a large part of her reason for not believing that we could make a go of it together. She said," he pauses, clears his throat and stares at the blank television screen. "She said that my um, preferences would eventually make me resent her... that I'd want to, you know, see men. Which would make me feel guilty, then angry."

Okay, he's done it - finally managed to shock me into speechlessness. He's Bi? And Scully knows? But he's never, to my knowledge, been involved with a man. At least not since I've known him. And now, NOW the bastard tells me? After I've invited him to stay here with me?

I am so fucked it's not even remotely funny.

Lifting my glass, I'm more than a little dismayed to find that it's empty. I briefly consider another drink, then my eyes fall on him. 

And he's looking at me hopefully.

Pitifully.

Mournfully.

No. N. O. This is NOT going to happen. I refuse to take this man into my bed - not when he's only looking for comfort. Ain't gonna happen. My feelings for him are far too strong - I'd never be able to hide the truth from him if we...

Nope. Strategic retreat is the order of the day - er, night. "Mulder, I'm tired. In fact, I'm exhausted. The guest bedroom is the second door on the right upstairs. I'm going to sleep now, you make yourself at home. Eat, watch TV, whatever you want."

With a shrug, he rises and walks to the stairs. "I'm tired, too, Walt. Think I'll try to get some sleep myself."

In silence, I turn off the lights and we walk upstairs together. After I hand him a fresh set of towels and point out the guest bathroom, I bid him a rather brisk good night and take refuge in my room.

Not bothering to undress beyond removing my shoes, I lie on top of the covers and try to figure out what the hell I'm going to do now. He won't let it drop, not Mulder, he'll keep after me and after me until I break down and tell him how I feel.

Jesus-fucking-christ.

Why ME?

                         

You Don't Know Me  
Ray Charles   
(C. Walker/E. Arnold), Unichappell Music, BMI

You give your hand to me  
And then you say hello  
I can hardly speak  
My heart is beating so  
And anyone can tell  
You think you know me well  
But you don't know me

Oh you don't know the one  
That thinks of you at night  
Who longs to kiss your lips  
And yearns to squeeze you tight  
No I'm just a friend  
That's all I've ever been  
You just don't know me

I never knew the art of making love  
Though my heart aches with love for you  
Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by  
The chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me  
And then you say goodbye  
I watch you walk away  
Beside the lucky guy  
You'll never, never know  
The one who loves you so  
You just don't know me

I never knew the art of making love  
Though my heart aches with love for you  
Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by  
The chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me  
And then you say goodbye  
I watch you walk away  
Beside the lucky guy  
Who'll never, never know  
The one who loves you so  
You just don't know me

You'll never, ever know  
mmmm, cause you just don't know me

 

* * *

 

Title: Love Land 2: Tell Him  
Author: Jennie  
Feedback:   
Webpage: http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other and http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other  
TotalParts: 1  
Status: Complete  
Pairing: M/Sk  
Rating: PG for language and implied m/m relationship  
Spoilers: Essence and Existence - season 8  
Series: Love Land #2, sequel to You Don't Know Me  
Archive: RatB, DitB, WWOMB and Fries - others please ask first.  
Summary: Due to popular demand - heeere's the sequel - Mulder and Skinner TALK - No sex yet, kids - next time, I promise. You really should read You Don't... first - otherwise this'll make little or no sense to you  
Notes: Thanks to Jami, Tesa and Ursula for the Beta's  
Disclaimer: They're not my characters and I've made no money with this little story.

* * *

Love Land 2: Tell Him  
by Jennie

Despite the liquor, I can't sleep. Hell, I should have known better than to even try - but Walt had left me with little choice in the matter. Well, okay, he DID make it clear that I could stay up and watch TV. 

He also made it pretty damned clear that I wasn't welcome in his bed. So much for that brilliant idea. Once he'd actually admitted to being interested in a man - well, shit, a guy can't blame himself for hoping, can he?

On the other hand, he HAD said that this unnamed man was straight. And, until tonight he'd thought I was straight - hadn't he? I'd never given him any reason to think otherwise. 

I don't think so, anyway - and he HAD looked surprised at my admission.

On the other hand (how many hands is that anyway?), well, there had always been a certain look in his eyes during the few relaxed moments between us. Or, was that just wishful thinking on my part?

Shit - this is getting me nowhere fast. With a disgusted sigh, I climb out of the bed and creep downstairs. Settled on the couch, I turn on the television - volume carefully lowered - and flip through the channels in search of something... anything that might distract me.

I settle on an old horror movie - seems that the porn channels aren't included in Walt's cable package.

Hmmm - 'Walt's package'...

Dammit - enough already. He's made his lack of interest very apparent. I'm disappointed, yeah. Can't help that. While thoughts of him distracting me in THAT way hadn't been in my mind when I'd headed here earlier - okay, such thoughts hadn't been in the FRONT of my mind - I'd felt such a surge of hope for a few minutes there... 

FUCK!

With a groan, I sink back into the couch cushions and try to concentrate on Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.

A near-silent sound has me jolting upright, twisting to see what danger stalks me NOW. Spotting Skinner standing on the bottom step, I don't relax at all. I try, though. Do my level best to appear quite fascinated by the movie.

"Hey," I offer casually. "Sorry if I woke you - I, um, couldn't sleep, after all."

He sighs heavily. "So I see."

Stepping off of the stairway he starts across the room. "I couldn't sleep either, actually," he admits gruffly. "I'm gonna make coffee - you want a cup?"

"Sounds good." I watch as he disappears into the kitchen, frowning in wonder as I note that he's still dressed - except for his shoes, I can't help noticing.

Why do I find that so... so hot? I have my kinks, I admit that freely, but feet are definitely NOT one of them.

He comes back in to join me on the couch while the coffee brews. I studiously keep my eyes directed at the TV - but, his rumpled state has not escaped my eagle eye. Nor, to my dismay, has the fact that he's not wearing his glasses.

Gotta watch my step here. Very carefully. 

He groans and rubs tiredly at his eyes.

VERY carefully.

There's always been something so vulnerable about him when the glasses come off... 

I'm in trouble. Big trouble. I want him - shit, I always have. And now, knowing that he's available - or could be, to the right man - I'm... Trouble, I tell you. With a capital 'T'.

I sigh. Now I'm quoting old musicals - damn my eidetic memory!

Thankfully, he ignores my sigh and watches the movie with a small frown on his face. "Mulder, please tell me this isn't as schlocky as I think it is - are we really watching this?"

"Hey," I protest. "This is a classic, I'll have you know."

A grunt of skepticism is his only response.

"Maybe if you put your glasses on," I suggest helpfully.

Just exactly whom I might think might be helped by this, I don't specify.

"I think not, Agent. In fact," he sounds almost teasing as he hauls himself back to his feet, "it is no doubt much less objectionable this way."

"You sir," I huff in answer, "have NO appreciation for fine art."

Skinner chuckles. "Oh, I like art just fine, Mulder. This in no way resembles anything of the kind. And what did we agree to about that 'Sir' business?"

"Hey," I object. "You started it - called me 'Agent'."

"Your only specification was that I not call you 'Fox'," he points out reasonably.

Have I ever mention how much I hate reasonable people? I elect to ignore him as he walks into the kitchen. I'll lull him into a false sense of security - um hmmm - that's exactly what I'll do. I'll be so fucking reasonable he won't even recognize me.

While he busies himself with the coffee, I start flipping through the channels again. Surely I can find something more... reasonable. More to his taste.

0h - here we go. Jeckyll and Hyde - with Fredric March. Don't remember that version? You plebian. It was released a looong time ago. In fact, it's silent. Walt should remember this - from the first release. I'm giggling helplessly when he reenters the room. 

He pauses, frowning at me suspiciously. "Do I even want to know?"

"Here," I pat the cushion beside me invitingly. "I've found a movie you'll recall from your younger days. Join me."

He sits down and directs his attention to the television. Gapes. "Mulder, you... you little shit! Just how old do you think I am?"

I shrug innocently. "Gee, I can't begin to guess. Tell me, Walt, how old ARE you?"

He sits back and snorts. "Fuck you, Mulder."

Oh boy. Oh MAN. I should be so lucky.

He turns and stares at me incredulously.

Uh oh. I frantically wonder if I actually said that aloud.

"WHAT did you say?"

Oh damn.

Oh FUCK.

I eye the stairs, wondering if I can get up to my room and lock the door before he KILLS me.

Not a fucking chance in hell, I decide. Best just hope he'll take that as a part of my admittedly weird mood tonight.

He continues to eye me suspiciously.

No such luck - shoulda known. "Um," I shift uncomfortably. "Guess I should pack my bags and leave now, huh?"

"You didn't bring any bags, Mulder."

"Oh. Well, guess I can just go then."

He reaches out with one hand, blocking my weak attempt to leave the couch. Turns off the television with the other and directs his full attention my way.

"What," he growls - dammit, if he only knew what that growl DOES to me - "are you doing, Mulder? You come here tonight expecting me to make you forget Scully? Is that it? I'm not into pity fucks, Mulder. Don't want one, won't give one."

Oh shit. Now I've done it. "Ah... well, damn, Walt - I don't suppose this would be a good time to mention how long and how much I've wanted you?" What the hell - might as well come clean. What MORE do I have to lose?

A little more dignity will hardly be missed at this late date.

He sits back and regards me from narrowed eyes. "And Scully? What the fuck was that all about earlier, Mulder?"

Shit. Not gonna let me off the hook so easily, huh?

"Okay... look. Until tonight I thought you were straight - and I mean STRAIGHT - y'know, Marines - big tough macho AD... I um - well when you said that about there being a 'him'," my words trail off helplessly under his gimlet eye.

"And Scully?" He pushes.

Damn him. Damn ME. And my foolish mouth.

I sigh. "I DID want it to work, Skinner. Really - I tried. Gave it my best shot. But, she knows me too well. I think she knew there was a man... one I couldn't get out of my mind, y'know? Don't ask me how. She's scary that way."

"Uh huh." Very noncommittal.

"I... ah, DAMMIT, Skinner, you were the first person I thought of when she kicked me out. I needed you - you always could make things better. I don't know how or why - but, you make me feel safe."

"Oh?" Skinner's eyebrows rose towards his non-existent hairline. "So now I'm your father figure. Thanks, Mulder. That makes me feel MUCH better."

Shit! Can I say NOTHING right? "Dammit, Wa - um, Skinner. You know how it was with him. I hate the bastard. The last thing I need or want is a 'Daddy'."

Skinner sighed. "Walt is fine, Mulder."

Okay. That had to be a good thing... didn't it?

"I only meant that... well, I didn't want to go anywhere else - see anyone else. I needed you - and, as always, you helped. *I'm* the one that fucked up." I admit this in a low voice - apologies are NOT my thing. "And, I'm sorry. Really. I'll - I won't do it again, Walt. Won't push my limits with you... "

"Hell!" Rising, Skinner - WALT - paces across the room. Back and forth - twice. He stops and clears his throat. "I... oh, fuck it. Obviously YOU are the 'him' I referred to earlier, Mulder. BUT," he warns as a smile creeps across my face, "I'm not going to be your - um, rebound fucks are just as out as pity fucks."

Okay - wasn't exactly a resounding yes - but neither was it a no. I can live with that.

He turns the television on again and reaches out, drawing me close with one arm. Oh god! I can't contain my happy sigh as I relax against his strength and warmth.

And, damned if I don't fall asleep.

Only to dream. But that's okay. Because I only dream of tomorrow.

Tomorrow... with Walter.

Yeah.

*****

Yes, dammit, there will be yet another Sequel.

Tell Him  
written by Bert Russell Berns

I know somethin' about love  
You've gotta want it bad  
If that guy's got into your blood  
Go out and get him

If you want him to be the very part of you  
That makes you want to breathe  
Here's the thing to do  
Tell him that you're never gonna leave him  
Tell him that you're always gonna love him  
Tell him, tell him, tell him, tell him right now

I know somethin' about love  
You gotta show it and make him  
See that moon up above  
Reach out and get it

If you want him to  
Make your heart sing out  
And if you want him to  
Only think of you

Tell him that you're never gonna leave him  
Tell him that you're always gonna love him  
Tell him, tell him, tell him, tell him right now

Ever since the world began it's been that way  
For man and woman were created  
To make love their destiny  
Then why should true love be so complicated? Oh

I know something about love  
You gotta take it and  
Show him what the world is made of  
One kiss will prove it

If you want him to be  
Always by your side  
Take his hand tonight  
Swallow your foolish pride and  
Tell him that you're never gonna leave him  
Tell him that you're always gonna love him  
Tell him, tell him, tell him, tell him right now

Tell him that you're never gonna leave him  
Tell him that you're always gonna love him  
Tell him, tell him, tell him, tell him right now

 

* * *

 

Title: Tonight  
Author: Jennie   
Pairing: M/Sk  
Rating: NC-17  
Series/Sequel: Yep - Love Land #3 - follows You Don't Know Me and Tell Him  
Disclaimer: The boys STILL aren't mine.  
Archive: RatB, DitB and WWOMB  
Websites: <http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other> and <http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/hosted/Jennie.htm#other>  
Spoilers: Not really - it does take place past-Existence  
Notes: Many thanks to Jami and Teri for the beta, and to Tesa for the nagging - er, encouragement.  
Summary: See title and rating

* * *

Tonight  
Love Land #3  
by Jennie

*****

I can't sleep.

So what else is new?

Actually, this is a little odd. Ever since I came here to stay with Skinner, I've been sleeping pretty well. Except for that first night, of course. But, hey, you can't really blame me for that one - after all, that was the night I found out he was bi. 

'Course, that was also the night he found out that I was bi. And that we admitted that we had... feelings for each other.

For all the good that had done either of us. He's so... so damned noble. I used to admire that about him, you know. Now, well, it makes me fucking crazy! Dammit, I want him - he wants me. What is the FUCKING problem?

'No pity fucks', he says.

I'll give him pity.

Right between his eyes, the bastard.

Two weeks. It's been two WEEKS since I came to him. And he's STILL making me wait - I'm damned lucky to get a kiss out of him, never mind anything more or, well anything MORE.

I'm losing my mind here. And, I have to admit, my dick is sore as HELL from all the jacking off I've been doing.

Jumping him is becoming a more attractive option every day.

*****

Mulder's up. I can hear him stirring around in his room.

His room? Hell with that, it's MY room - my guest room.

Yeah, right. 

MY room, MY home... MY damned sleep. Who am I kidding? NOTHING is mine any longer. Everything revolves around him now. I go in to work every morning expecting to come home and find him gone at the end of the day. But the little shit stays. And stays.

He's driving me insane. I haven't slept more than two hours at a stretch since he arrived. My home looks like a tornado just swept through it. The television is ALWAYS on - if I have to sit through one more dreadful sci-fi movie, I'll scream.

I think he's waiting for me to break down and add his precious porn channels to my cable package.

Ain't gonna happen.

Worst of all, he's decided to take up cooking. My kitchen will never recover. Nor will my stomach. I've taken to eating Zantac AND Tums before I get home in the evening.

So far, neither is helping.

*****

Tossing my book aside - 'The Bridges of Madison County' is only giving me a hard on - I decide to go downstairs. Maybe I'll try making that muffin mix I picked up at the grocery store yesterday.

I briefly entertain a rather disturbing notion regarding the seedless cucumber I also purchased, but never mind... I'm sure you don't want to know any more on that particular subject. 

Moving quietly, I go down to the kitchen and start pulling the ingredients I'll need out of the cupboards and fridge. Naturally, I manage to drop the stainless steel bowl on the floor.

Damn - those things make quite a noise when they fall, don't they?

I freeze for a few minutes, but can hear nothing that would indicate that Walt's sleep has been disturbed.

I'd tell you I was relieved by that - but you probably wouldn't believe me.

I manage to get the mix prepared and into the oven with a minimum of further noise and head in to watch television while the muffins cook.

And promptly fall asleep.

Not a problem, you're thinking... 'He set the timer'. Right? Right. Well, actually-

Ahem.

When I wake up, panicked by the dreadful noise and billowing smoke coming from the kitchen, Walt's already dashed into the fray and pulled the now incinerated muffins from the oven. Completely ignoring my presence, he rips the still-screaming smoke detector from the ceiling, turns on the exhaust fan, opens the balcony doors and stalks back upstairs.

All without saying a word.

I am SO fucked.

*****

I still haven't decided whether I should just shoot Mulder or cuff him out on the balcony for the night when he hesitantly taps on my door.

I think I'll shoot him - non-fatally - and THEN cuff him outside.

"WHAT?" I yell when he ignores my silence and opens the door, peering in at me looking... Damn him! If he wasn't such a cute bastard I WOULD shoot him.

"Um... Sorry?" His voice wobbles and his eyes look suspiciously bright.

Shit.

I sit heavily on the edge of my bed and raise both hands, rubbing my eyes with my fingertips. God, my head hurts. 

"Are you um, okay?", he asks tentatively, still lurking in the doorway.

I glare at him and he flinches back, retreating behind the door again until tousled hair and two sad eyes are all I can see.

I sigh - very heavily, I might add - and wave one hand dismissively at him. "I'm just fine, Mulder. Go on back downstairs."

He opens the door and takes a couple of tentative steps into my bedroom.

Maybe I should've asked him in - the perverse little bastard would have probably headed directly to the living room if I had.

No, you're right, he'd've come in no matter what I said.

I release another sigh and shake my head hopelessly. "What do you want?"

He walks over to me and kneels at my feet. Looks up and meets my eyes gravely, and says, "You."

*****

My heart's in my throat as I wait for his response.

"Mulder," he groans, "I told you-"

"I know," I interrupt him. "I know what you said - eidetic memory here, remember? But, dammit, Walt! I want you - I really do - and you want me, too. I know that you do... So tell me - why the FUCK do we have to keep waiting? WHAT are we waiting for?"

He's shaking his head at me again. Damn him. And I - well, I decide that I've had enough already - enough of this waiting shit. I rise up off of my knees, catching him by surprise, and push him back to lay on the mattress. Following his weight down, I hold him in place by laying atop him.

Eyes wide, he pushes at my shoulders and opens his mouth to yell at me again - well, okay, maybe he wasn't going to yell - maybe he was just gonna talk at me. I'm fucking sick of TALKING. We've talked more in the past two weeks than in the entire eight years we've known each other. It is now time for action, dammit. 

So I kiss him.

And, believe me, I put everything I have, everything I AM into that kiss. Because, I have a feeling that if this doesn't convince him to just let go of his reservations, nothing ever will. This may very well be my last chance with him and I will NOT just give up and go away without at least trying.

*****

Oh shit. Damn. Fuck.

I'm... he's... KISSING me.

Mulder really knows how to do this - kiss, I mean. My hands tighten on his shoulders for a moment, I really intend to push him away... we CAN'T do this. It's too soon. He's still getting over - um...

Getting over...

Oh jesus! His hands are wandering. Across my bare chest. 

And I'm, well, damn - I'm lost and I might as well admit it. He wins. I lose. Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. None of it... not Scully or Sharon or the past or the future. The only thing that matters is that he not stop. Never stop. 

I don't know exactly when it happens, but somewhere along the line my hands move down from his shoulders to his back to his hips and close tightly on his ass, pulling our hips together and-

DAMN! He's moaning and whimpering into my mouth and grinding his cock against mine and I think I'm going to have a heart attack right on the spot.

Breaking off the kiss, he rolls to one side, pulling me along with him until our positions are reversed. He raises his legs and wraps them around my waist and starts begging.

"Walter... God! Please, don't leave me like this. I can't... oooh - Can't wait. Need you, need this. Tonight. TONIGHT!"

I open my mouth to tell him... "Umph!" He rears up and clamps his lips to mine again and continues to writhe under me. And starts making these noises - kind of desperate and needy sounds that vibrate against my mouth and chest. 

I'm a strong man. Always have been. Have had to be. But this - now - HIM... I can't say no. Couldn't even if my life depended on it. I have no choice - no alternative. Not anymore. Having him here, with me, touching him, feeling his hands on me are now all I live for. Without them, I'm no longer alive. Without him, I have no reason to live.

I'm doomed.

But, what a way to go.

*****

It... it's working. He's holding on to me now. Holding ON to me. 

God, Walt's hands are so warm, so strong on my body... One is still on my ass - the other moves up to touch my chest, find one nipple and start to caress. And I, I can't think of anything but him. 

With me.

Touching me.

Kissing me.

MINE. He's mine now - and I will NOT let him get away! Not after this. Now that I know - finally! I know - that he's mine - that he really does want me as much as I want him... well, if he ever so much as looks at another person with anything more than lukewarm interest, I will kill the fucker that catches his attention.

Because he's MINE!

And I'm going to prove it to him, right fucking NOW. Impatiently, I reach down and push at his pajama bottoms. Takes forever to shove them down past his hips - at least it seems like forever. 

Tomorrow, while he's at work, I'm going to burn all of his pajamas, I decide. Every single pair.

Ah - there. No more barriers. I can touch him - hold him in my hand. A thrill runs through me when he moans into my mouth.

Oh yeah. He is SO mine now.

******

Whatever idiotic reasons I had - and I DID have reasons - for waiting have completely faded under his touch. All I can do now is hang on and - what the hell? - have fun. Might as well enjoy this experience. 'Cause at this rate I'll be deader that a doornail by morning.

Trust me, you would be too - no wonder Mulder never gets laid. Probably felt guilty after he'd killed off a dozen or so lovers and quit. I briefly wonder how Scully survived him - then push the thought aside as completely uninteresting when his hold on my aching cock tightens.

I'm so lost in the moment, that at first, I don't even hear him talking. Eventually though, his voice breaks into my lust-hazed brain. 

"What?" I manage to ask.

"Fuck me, Walt."

Well now, I think that's just about the most brilliant thing he's ever said to me. In fact, I'm frozen, just frozen with the surge of need that rushes through my body at his words.

Which, oddly enough, doesn't seem to thrill Mulder.

"Walt... WALT!"

"What?" I blink and stare into his eyes. 

Big mistake. My treacherous mind floats off again, amazed at the changes that lust and need have wrought in his expression. His lids are at half mast, almost hiding his glazed eyes from me... His color is high, lips swollen from our kisses and damn - I've never seen anything quite like it - that expression.

"Damn," he's mumbling and wriggling around under me, trying to push his shorts off. "Skinner, Skinner! Help me out here, would you?"

Uh huh. I smile at him and bend down to kiss him again. Am quite surprised when he impatiently turns his face to one side.

What?

"Walter," he's still talking at me. Does the man NEVER shut up? "Help me... Fuck! GET MY FUCKING SHORTS OFF!"

Why didn't he just ask me? Hell, I think that's a GREAT idea...

Yeah, naked Mulder... under me -

Oh yeah!

*****

Shit! He's gone off into one of his damned fugue states again - just staring at me, no actual comprehension in his eyes at all.

I think that, perhaps, he made us wait just a little too long. His brain has short-circuited now that the waiting and the anticipation have finally ended.

It takes some pretty inspired maneuvering on my part, but finally, my shorts are gone. They're also ripped beyond any hope of recovery, but, shit - who cares about a minor detail like that when I finally have him? Not I. Not even a little.

In fact, it worked so well on my shorts, I reach down and rid him of those damned irritating pajamas in the same way. The sound of material tearing doesn't seem to impinge on his poor old brain at all.

Okay. I'm getting there - geez, I hope he doesn't turn into a slack-jawed idiot every time we fuck - and now for our next problem... Lube. Damn. I didn't bring any with me. Hope he has some around - close by - because there is NO way I'm leaving this bed. With or without lubrication, his dick will be in my ass in VERY short order here.

It only takes six repetitions of his name and two pinches to his ass to get his attention. 

I know I only have him for a second, so I make it short and to the point, "Lube? Where?"

He turns his head and looks up towards his pillow. Then he immediately turns back and lowers his head until he can nibble on my throat. Ah! Damn - that's... um... What was I... um-

Oh! Yeah. I stretch out one arm and manage to locate a very familiar tube secreted away under his pillow. Well, guess I'm not the only one that's been jacking off with increasing regularity around here.

Now, we're in business. I fumble the top off of the lube and squirt a very generous amount onto my fingers. Reaching down between us, I coat his cock and then raise my legs and wrap them around him again.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Not that I don't enjoy what he's doing to my neck and ear and jaw and mouth and... Oh yes, he has a very talented mouth. Very. Talented. And I... Fuck! I hiss and arch up against him when his teeth locate THAT spot behind my right ear.

Dimly, I hear someone gasping and cursing. Open my eyes. Um - oh, okay, that was me making those noises. I'm going to come just from what he's doing to my neck here in a minute...

No.

NO! Dammit, I WILL be fucked tonight, if it's the last damned thing I ever do. I reach up and grab him by his ears, pulling until he raises his head and stares at me dazedly.

"'s wrong?", he asks, obviously hurt that I've interrupted his fun.

"Fuck me, dammit. Walt - just, no... don't bite me again - just FUCK ME ALREADY!"

There, I seem to have caught his attention with that. 

*****

Fuck him? Did he just say... Fuck? Him?

Oh. OH! Okay, I can do that. I reach up to grab the tube of lubrication from under my pillow and he sighs impatiently.

"Got that - you're all slicked up - readytogohere," he says in a jumble of rushed words. 

I still pause, though. There's - um... Something else we need...

Condom. Of course - that's it... "We need-" I start to say.

"Nothing," he insists, pushing up at me with increasing need. "We need nothing - both healthy - fine - been a fucking coon's age since either of us..."

Okay. Enough, I get it. And... Damned if I'm gonna argue the point. I shift my weight to one hand and reach down to guide my cock to his entrance.

Which shuts him up very nicely. I'll have to remember this for future reference. Slowly, I rock my hips against him. Must be careful - can't hurt him. Been so long, though. SO fucking long. Not sure I can wait for him to open for me. I ah... I'm, trying, so hard, to make this easy for him - and he-

SHIT! He forcefully moves his hips, grinding his ass against me, until he's managed to work my erection fully into his heat. And, good god - the man is like a furnace inside. A furnace made of silk and rippling muscles.

*****

And, he's gone again. This time, though, I don't mind - not even a little. Why?, you ask... Well, he's still moving. Oh. My. Fucking. God. He's moving in and out of me and it's - jeezus - it's incredible. I've never, um... never felt anything quite... ah - yeah!

My arms and legs hold on tightly, my eyes close, my mouth hangs open as I desperately try to breathe and I can't.. think... any... more-

His breathing grows heavier with each delicious thrust into me and I'm just one huge bundle of nerve endings and then he - oh man - he adjusts his angle and the head of his cock brushes across my prostate and I...

"SHIT!" I'm screaming and yelling into his ear, my hold on him so tight that my body rises and falls with the movements of his hips. "Fuck! WALT I... GOD! I LOVE YOU!"

And I come. Simple word - come. So lacking in any real description of what happens at the moment of orgasm. An electrical charge moves inexorably through me, starting in my toes and moving up my legs, gathering in my balls, until I'm sobbing with pleasure and muscles spasms pull my entire body up into one huge seizure.

I can't say for sure - but, when he yells and stiffens above me, pouring his hot semen deep into the recesses of my body - I suspect he's enjoying a similar experience.

*****

Slowly - VERY slowly - the fog lifts from my brain. I groggily open my eyes, curious as to why my mattress is moving under me. And -

Oh...

O-ooh!

Mulder is laying there - under me - with the most self-satisfied smile it's ever been my pleasure to behold. 

And I - *I* - put that smile on his face.

Damn.

Not bad for an aging, balding, Assistant Director type of guy.

I can't help it, I just have to kiss him.

I'm gonna fall asleep here in a second - Hell, I'm lucky I regained consciousness at ALL here. But first-

"I love you, too," I murmur to him.

Another smile is my reward.

I could learn to live with this, I think.

Yeah - In fact... I WILL learn to live with this - with him.

I tell him so.

Brilliant move on my part. He pulls me down into a desperately tight hold and says thickly into my neck, "You're mine now."

His.

Yeah.

Oh yeah.

End

           
    
    
    Yes 
    Merry Clayton 
    From the Dirty Dancing Soundtrack 
    
    Drivin' around 
    I just can't hear a sound 
    'Cept my own wheels turnin' 
    Wastin' away 
    I'm just runnin' away 
    From a heart that's a burnin' 
    But I can't run forever 
    CHORUS: 
    Yes 
    We're gonna fall in love 
    And it feels so right 
    Yes 
    We're gonna make love 
    It's gonna be tonight 
    I can just imagine 
    Huggin' and teasin' and 
    Lovin' and squeezin' all night 
    
    I've made up my mind 
    He's gonna be mine 
    I'm so glad I waited 
    Why did I try 
    To figure out why 
    Everything can't be anticipated 
    I can't wait to tell him 
    

  
Archived: October 11, 2001 


End file.
